Chuck vs His Fate
by LLCandTGP
Summary: While visiting his sister on her term in Africa, the last thing Chuck Bartowski expects is any real adventure. But when he saves a certain blonde on the run from the local authorities, he gets yanked into a fight he never intended, one that just might revolve around him and his very choices. Romance, action, and adventure ensue.


Chuck vs. His Fate

While visiting his sister on her term in Africa, the last thing Chuck Bartowski expects is any real adventure. But when he saves a certain blonde on the run from the local authorities, he gets yanked into a fight he never intended, one that just might revolve around him. Romance, action, and adventure ensue.

**A/N: (LLC): Alright guys, this is our first one together so if it sucks majorly...I blame Andrew. I'm not quite sure how we ended up with this killer plot, and why anyone would want to give it up...but we're up for the challenge. Thanks for checking this out and giving us two buymorons a chance...Long Live Chuck? **

**A/N2: (TGP): That was lame, Jace. Anyhow, he's right. Thanks for checking this out. Should be a fun long ride, if you'll permit us to stay and flourish. Should have fun seeing where this goes. Thanks- Andrew. **

**So we brushed it up and added a few things here and there, and hopefully, you'll all enjoy it. **

**-DEMOCRATIC REPUBLIC OF THE CONGO, AFRICA: MONDAY 11:30 PM-**

"I want her alive." Abassi Zuma, the most prominent and influential drug lord of Africa spoke, and his word was law. He and his men were smart enough to dress as the local soldiers, it saved them lives and time. All it took was a little patience and a few gun shots. The bodies were missing to date, not that anyone seemed to care anyway. His country...his continent, even, was falling apart with many different claims of ownership; the perfect place for his men to flourish under such chaos and corruption. No one ever seemed to pay him and attention, or try to stop him, until the damn Americans got involved.

An American agent was on the run from the CIA, and Abassi had no intentions of helping him. He then handed him a chip, and offered him the most handsome sum of riches and money he'd ever seen. When he asked how the agent came across all of it, he only smirked, told him to hide the chip from any and all threats, and hand it over back to him when they met next. That never happened, and for weeks now, Zuma held the chip, holding it higher than his men mentally. Whatever this chip was...the Americans were willing to get their hands dirty for it.

"Sir, she's awake." His right hand man alerted him, shaking him from his musings.

"Very good…" he smirked, his white teeth flashing amidst the darkness of his small study, a makeshift room his men had made in the old abandoned warehouse they called home. Turning, he set down the computer chip on his desk, placing his rifle along with it. He wouldn't be needing that, a simple pistol would suffice. He intended on having some fun before he shot the blonde.

Straightening his shirt, he stepped out of his enclosed and designated den, into the warehouse. There was his prize, bound to a chair with several guns trained on her. It reminded him of a wild boar, caught and set upon a blazing fire. Smirking, he approached his metaphorical boar. Her head was down, but Zuma had already seen her beautiful face. She was definitely worth keeping….until he finished with her.

"Get out!" He roared at his gun men, who dispersed at once. They didn't deserve a share of the prize, especially one so beautifully rare. They were untrained idiots, in his eyes. They couldn't so much as pull a trigger when lives were on the line unless Zuma ordered it. It disgusted him to his very core. They knew Zuma wouldn't hesitate to put a bullet in any of there skulls if they so much as blinked at his orders. "She's mine." He added.

The blonde was sweaty, dirty, and tired, as expected. Zuma had seen what she was capable of, the damage she could cause if not securely tied. She'd put up one hell of a fight for the for her, she'd stumbled right into his trap, she was outnumbered by at least twenty. Why she was there? He was certainly going to enjoy finding out.

"So…" He drawled, his English thick with his native accent. "They call you Agent Walker…." He chuckled deeply, stepping closer now. "What pathetic group sent you here, hmm?"

The blonde remained statue like, head down solemnly.

"CIA? NSA?" he laughed. "Oh, you Americans and your ideas of Liberty and Justice…..it reminds me of those old myths we tell here." He chuckled, seeming to enjoy his own banter.

He took a step closer, forcing her head up. Her sharp blue eyes were flashing as he took in her face, which was barely touched, with the exception of a few scratches from their less than cordial meeting. She could smell the cigars and whiskey on him. He was vulnerable, and she took note, her face never betraying her once.

"Sir!" His man entered the room cautiously, as if he would get shot otherwise. "The Americans are here! They have the police with them, and they're on the main street!" he insisted nervously. "That's only half an hour from-"

"Dammit!" Zuma roared, turning to the blonde, under the impression she'd alerted them. The chair was empty, the shackles hanging there.

"What?" he snapped, turning to his man, who'd had his eyes on her. He was on the floor, a series of darts in his leg.

"No!" He cried, sprinting for his den. Running, he found that the room was empty, his rifle and chip gone. "Where the hell are you?" He roared, searching under his desk, and in any other corners.

He heard the sharp roar of the jeep parked outside. His jeep.

"You idiots!" He yelled at his idle men, who were watching the entire affair in shock from the back area of the warehouse. "Stop her!" A list of profanities in his native tongue followed, but his men were halfway out, running as fast as they could.

They were no match for a speeding Jeep.

Fetching their rifles, they swiftly took aim and shot, but they were poorly trained militia men, he'd either stolen or recruited from the slums of whatever place he'd been at the worked for boose and drugs. They never had a chance.

Zuma stepped over, yanking the rifle out of his man's hand. "Give me that, you insolent-" With a breath, he took aim. Her head was within view. Three. Two. O-

Within the second, the entire warehouse and its surroundings exploded with a violent blast, all going up in flames. Ashes began to fall from the black, thick cloud that hung over head, threatening to take Sarah in. Stepping on the pedal, she glanced at her thumb, the one she'd broken to break out of the cuffs. It looked worse. Stifling a curse, she turned towards the nearest city, figuring she was on the outskirts. She needed help.

**-DOCTORS WITHOUT BORDERS FACILITY: D.R.O.T. CONGO, AFRICA: TUESDAY: 9:30 AM-**

"I can't believe your flight is tonight, Chuck. Two weeks already?" Ellie watched her little brother sort the new first aid kits they'd just flown in. He'd been such good help and company these past few days, making her feel as if she was in Burbank again.

"I know, El. But Buymoria needs a king." He replied with a grin, proud of his career reference.

Ellie rolled her eyes. "Are you sure your calling isn't out here, saving lives? Chuck, the kids love you." She insisted, thinking of how he made them laugh and smile daily.

"And I scream girlishly and faint at the first sight of blood. Devon seems about right for that." He reminded with a chuckle.

"I always thought you'd join me in the medical field." Ellie guilted him, shrugging nonchalantly. "Guess not."

Chuck sighed, rising. "I'll help you while I'm still here….a day is a day, after all." He hugged her, excepting her warmth and the smell of her sweet perfume. He felt at home, with her too.

"I appreciate you coming here, Chuck." Ellie told him, hugging him closely. "Dad would've loved to see us like this…" she sighed wistfully.

Chuck agreed but mentally….he wasn't too sure. Ellie was always so sure that their father would be proud, but if he was…why did he have to leave? What secret was so important that his own kids became the second priority? He promised himself that one day, he was going to find all the answers. Maybe today, maybe thirty years from now. But one day, he'd know.

"Morning Chuckster." Devon grinned, pouring himself a cup of coffee. "Nice group hug without me..." he teased.

"Hey, Awesome." Chuck grinned at his deceptively handsome almost brother in law, the man capable of everything but harming another person. He was great, and perfect for Ellie. Chuck wished them the best in everything.

"Great morning, huh?" Devon smiled, clapping Chuck on the back.

"Yeah, nothing like dodging man eating snakes and lions on your way to the market." Chuck quipped with a grin. "Then again...I'm just guessing. I haven't gone this morning."

"Bro, there aren't any lions out here…..But uh…..watch out for that Boa by the stream…..The locals actually named it."

Chuck smiled. "That doesn't surprise me."

Ellie frowned, "Chuck….be careful out there. I know you think you're a pro here because you got us supplies but….the militia came in last night, and they're supposedly searching for an American…..don't give them a reason to think it's you, okay?"

Chuck laughed along with Devon at Ellie's worried take on things. "Sure sis….If I'm not back by three hours….you'll know. Well, either them or the snake."

Grabbing the keys to the back door of the facility, his main entrance, he high fived Devon and planted a kiss on Ellie's cheek. "See ya."

**-LOCAL MARKET: TUESDAY: 10:00 AM-**

"Milk, Eggs, Soda for the kiddies…." Chuck seemed to hum the ingredients to himself as he strolled through the tiny market, a rusted shopping basket in hand. "Oh wow, cheese puffs are on sale for half price!" he grinned, stepping over to the counter to place the large tub down, along with his other things.

Chuck observed the man behind the short counter. That certainly wasn't the usual friednly looking man. He was tall, and heavily built. He looked like a weight trainer at LA Fitness. Chuck shrugged, waiting for the man to ring him up.

The man tapped to the screen on the side of the beat up register. Chuck read the number: 18,476.66.

Letting out a whistle, he immediately put his hands up. "Woah, what's so expe-"

The man's thick, brutish voice cut him off. "That's Twenty Dollars."

Chuck chuckled awkwardly. "Oh, um…I have these…." He emptied bills and coins onto the table, unsure of how to count them out.

"Give me two of those." The man's accent was unlike the locals, and Chuck picked up very quickly.

"Okay….uh, have a nice day…" Chuck took his items.

The man simply grunted in reply.

"I usually take the back, is that alright?" Chuck asked, hoping the man wouldn't kick him out for being so annoying.

"Go." The man waved dismissively, eyes falling back to the door, as if he were watching for something.

"Okay then…" Chuck muttered as he stepped out the back, immediately slamming into a blonde blur. Suddenly, he was pulled into the trees, a hand covering his mouth.

The cashier heard the commotion, running outside. In his native tongue, he started shouting, brandishing a pistol from his cargo pants. Two men came from inside the store, and ran after him after surveying the scene for a moment. They headed for the thicker, wooded areas, opposite of Chuck and his assailant.

Chuck was immediately thrown against of the wall of the empty store, seeing a gun flash to his face. Chuck sucked in a breath taking in his assailant. She was breath taking: blonde, tall, with a seemingly angelic face, despite the minor cuts.

"You've got one minute to-" she began, but she froze in mid sentence. Shock fell upon her features. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry." she lowered the gun, eyes apologetic, but she was still hardened. "You're American!"

"uh...um...yeah. What just happened?" Chuck breathed hard, fearing for his life moments ago.

"Quick, do you have a way out of here, a place to stay, away from the militia?" the blonde asked.

Chuck knew better than to question a woman with a gun. But that didn't stop him from trying. "Woah, who are you anyway?"

Sarah glanced left, then right, seeming highly indecisive as to whether telling him about her real identity. It was risky...for all she knew he could've been hired by the enemy. Judging by the frantic look in his eyes, she decided against that. He looked to be decent enough. Finally, she settled on tearing out a badge from her torn jacket pocket.

"Sarah Walker, CIA." she decided unhappily, still on edge.

Chuck didn't look too sure. In fact, he felt like he was in a bad dream. "CI- What?"

"Look, I promise to answer all your questions once we're out of sight...please?"

Chuck didn't know if it was her voice, her badge, maybe the fact that she looked in dire need of a bandage or five... and a hug...but he decided to help her.

"Okay..." Chuck nodded, sighing. "The facility is through here..." he pointed to an opposite road, where a tall white gate was visible at the end.

Sarah stopped dead in her tracks. "Facility?" That could be very public and risky.

"Don't worry, Agent...Walker, I'll protect your identity..it's lunch, so everyone is out."

Sarah nodded, following him.

Chuck got to the back gate, unlocking it with his key. He noticed that Sarah was on high alert the entire time, eyes flipping at every crack or sound. She wasn't at ease.

"Don't worry, militia isn't allowed here. It stresses the patients. We have American security...can't they help you?" he asked curiously.

"Oh, no..." Sarah shook her head, clutching her hand. "They're...um...not on our level..."

Chuck glanced at her cautiously, then concern crossed his features. "Agent Walker, what's wrong with your hand?"

Sarah took in a sharp breath, leaning against the counter as they arrived in the empty, white kitchen. "Call me Sarah..." she replied, seeming to pass his questions with a hopeful change of subject.

"I'm Chuck...Chuck Bartowski." something immediately flashed in Sarah's eyes, but Chuck missed it. "I'd shake your hand...but..."

Sarah let out a wry laugh.

"What if I could get you private help...only one other person would know...my sister." Chuck tried, desperate to help the agent.

"Chuck, I don't know-" she bit her lip nervously.

"Chuck?" Ellie stepped in, hands in her hips. Sarah's eyes widened, as did Chuck's. Sarah's eyes pleaded and he finally caved. "you've been gone for hours!"

"Sorry El, I uh...ran into an unfortunate tourist who had some bad luck with the militia." he motioned to Sarah, who immediately looked shy.

Ellie suddenly noticed the gorgeous stranger leaning awkwardly against the kitchen counter. "Oh my god! They really hurt you!" she rushed over to check Sarah, her trained eye immediately taking in several scars and bruises along side her cuts.

Over Ellie's shoulder, she mouthed a thank you to Chuck, who gave her a small smile in reply.

"They broke your thumb?" Ellie cried, running to fetch the tape and bandages.

"It all happened so fast." Sarah shrugged, wincing. Chuck noticed how well she acted. It was a little scary, to be honest.

"Those monsters! Oh, shoot. I forgot to introduce myself..." Ellie began. "I'm Dr. Ellie Bartowski, Chuck's sister..."

There was that name again! Could it be coincidence? Sarah nodded, sighing. "Sarah Walker..." the two made small talk as Ellie bandaged her hand.

After about fifteen minutes, Ellie came back in, Sarah's face completely cleaned and fixed up. Chuck had to admit...she was the most gorgeous woman he'd ever seen.

Sarah watched as Chuck did shyly, Ellie noticing the little sparks and connection. Her pager suddenly went off. "Duty calls. Nice meeting you, Sarah! And I'll see you soon Chuck!"

"Bye sis!" Chuck called, watching her leave the room.

"Look, ah Sarah..." Chuck began, feeling his cheeks burn as he spoke to the beauty. "You look like you haven't had a meal in days, and Ellie makes this great pasta salad...I was wondering if you wanted to stick around and have a bite...?" he felt childish, as if he was asking his high school date to the dance or something. Instead, he was asking a famished looking CIA agent to a bowl of pasta salad. Something had to have gone wrong somewhere.

Sarah bit her lip, feeling her heart flutter around and drop in her stomach. She had to leave, but to where? Zuma and his assholes destroyed her comm. equipment. Her only ride was at the airport tonight, and if she missed it, she'd be declared M.I.A.

"Well, that's okay if you don't...I have to pack for my flight home anyway..." Chuck sighed, feeling so sorely rejected.

Sarah's eyebrows shot up. "Wait, you're going home, tonight?"

"Um...yeah, it is Tuesday...right?" Chuck looked puzzled at why she would even care.

"Chuck, I need to go with you to the airport, it's my only way out, and-" she was cut off.

Chuck nodded. "Okay, sure. The driver shows up in four hours." Chuck told her.

Sarah couldn't believe her luck. "Really?" she asked incredelously. That easily?

"On one condition..." Chuck declared, smiling.

Sarah felt her heart drop. Conditions men wanted usually pictured her pleasing them in some sick twisted way. Of course she never did it, but for some reason, she felt Chuck was different. Maybe she'd been wrong about the adorable looking, curly haired man before him. With chocolate eyes so smooth and gentle...Sarah shook herself from her thoughts.

"Have some pasta with me." Chuck smiled, motioning to the table.

Sarah felt a full smile finally hit her relief, she laughed gently, an angelic sound. She felt warm and light for the first time in a while, and as odd as it was, she welcomed it.

**A/N: So the only major change was a spelling sequence, but that's about it. Hope you guys will review and give us some feedback and support, because we write for you. Remember, for any author….drop a kind review if you enjoyed it….it'll make their day. **

**So, see you in a few days, have a great one guys. –LLC AND TGP. **


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